


help me sober up

by hockeydyke



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety, Drunkenness, Freshman Year, Gen, Haus Parties, Pre-Relationship, Protective Jack, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 03:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15134060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeydyke/pseuds/hockeydyke
Summary: It's 3am and Jack can't sleep again, so it's time for a late night snack.Unfortunately, there's a little rookie who can't handle his alcohol waiting in the kitchen, and it looks like it's Jack's responsibility to deal with him.





	help me sober up

**Author's Note:**

> Won't you help me sober up?  
> Growing up, it made me numb  
> And I want to feel something again  
> Won't you help me sober up?  
> All the big kids, they got drunk  
> And I want to feel something again  
> Won't you help me feel something again?  
> -Sober Up by AJR and Rivers Cuomo
> 
> Set during Bitty's freshman year, after his first kegster, from Jack's POV.

It’s three in the morning and Jack is awake, blinking at the swath of darkness above his bed, all too alert, despite how exhausted he is from their game the night before.

 

Again.

 

He gave it about ten minutes before he gave a short grunt and heaved off his blanket, dropping his bare feet to the hardwood floor and padding out of his room, footsteps landing loudly against the quiet of the Haus at night. His breath is still coming in heavy from whatever dream it was that had originally awoken him-- or maybe just from his frustration. It would be bad enough that he’s been restless nearly every night recently, but what makes it worse is the fact that he had actually thought he had gotten past that. 

 

Sure, the beginning of his freshman year had been a little rocky, but that maybe wasn’t even the fault of his brain. Every college freshman goes through a bit of a rough transition period, so he was probably just normalizing. 

 

It had gotten better after a few months. Sophomore year had been a breeze for him, sleepwise-- comparatively. But here he is now, with all his old anxieties rushing back up to greet him like old friends. He thinks that maybe this has something to do with having crossed the halfway point of his time in college. Every moment is another step closer to the point where he’ll have to make a decision about what he’s doing next.

 

Just the abstract thought of that makes his breath hitch deep in his throat, so he pushes it out of his mind as much as he can and takes a few deep breaths, counting them out. 

 

What was he doing again? Oh-- water. And a granola bar, maybe, if he has any left. 

 

He exits the room and trods down the stairs. The entire first floor reeks of beer, sweat, and a few other unpleasant smells, but he’s glad to see that all of their party guests seem to have been ushered away. That had been one of Jack’s first decisions as team captain-- party guests who weren’t a part of the team had to be out of the Haus by 2am. This had been their post home opener celebration, so while it wasn’t the smallest party, it also hadn’t been the most wild. 

 

Jack was only guessing that based on the noises he’d heard from where he’d been locked away in his room upstairs, though. He hadn’t played his best, so he had no reason to celebrate.

 

His bare foot hits an unidentifiable puddle of liquid at the bottom of the stairs. He truly hopes it’s just tub juice and doesn’t really want to think of the alternatives.

 

Unfortunately, he’s so distracted letting his mind wander to what the alternatives might be that he completely loses track of his surroundings for a moment as he steps into the kitchen and flicks on the light. Because of the old wiring in the Haus there’s a slight delay from when he hits the switch until the lights actually turn on, and in that brief moment, it occurs to him that something in the kitchen is humming.

 

Then Jack is blinking at the sudden brightness and flinching in surprise, because less than three feet in front of him is a very small and very wobbly shape, swaying on its feet.

 

“Bittle?” Jack asks. 

 

“Oh, Lordy,” Bittle says, and then he’s falling into the counter. He’s holding a small mixing bowl in the crook of his arm and he has what looks like a beer stain splattered across the front of his mint green button down. “Please do not yell right now,” he adds. He’s slurring slightly.

 

Jack wants to scold him for assuming that he would do that, but it occurs to him that maybe that is why Bittle is afraid he might yell. This also makes him aware that he is currently doing something with his face that might be considered glaring, so he does his best to smooth out his expression and even try to smile. 

 

Bittle audibly squeaks. Maybe the smile didn’t come across very well. Whatever. Jack is very tired. 

 

“What are you doing?” Jack asks, stepping around Bittle so he can grab a water bottle from the fridge. He had planned on bringing it back to bed, but it seems like Bittle might need it more right now, so Jack holds it out to him.

 

Bittle stares at it, as if it doesn’t occur to him that he can set down his bowl in order to take the bottle. “I’m making batter for pancakes,” he says.

 

“Does that need to be done right at this moment?” Jack asks.

 

“Um,” says Bittle. “I don’t really know what time it is and everything is spinning.”

 

“Right,” Jack says, taking the bowl and setting it on the counter. The ‘batter’ Bittle had been mixing looks a lot more like watery flour than anything else. “It’s the middle of the night, so this can wait until tomorrow morning. Do you think you can sleep right now?”

 

Bittle blinks at him and Jack frowns, again. The poor kid seems very confused. This might be his first time ever being this drunk, Jack thinks. He’s very sloppy. It would be endearing if it wasn’t so concerning.

 

Jack needs to have some words with Ransom and Holster. For one, the party has been over for over an hour, but this kid is still drunk enough that he’s slurring and barely coherent, so someone should have been moderating his intake better. Secondly, he clearly needed to be tucked into bed somewhere in the Haus, and because someone had failed to do that, he is now puttering around the Haus kitchen unattended when he’s in no state to be around potentially dangerous appliances.

 

“I don’t want to walk to my dorm alone,” he says, cautiously, even though it’s a very rational thing to say, considering how drunk he is. Jack’s not sure why he’s embarrassed about it. It might have something to do with the fact that Jack or Ransom or Holster or the majority of the guys on the team wouldn’t think twice about walking alone at night. 

 

But Bittle is not Jack or Ransom and Holster, and he is a very, very drunk freshman, so Jack gives a little huff and bends just enough so he can pick Bittle up by the waist and lift him up over his shoulder.

 

Bittle’s entire body stiffens up immediately, which is interesting. This isn’t the first time Jack has noticed this happen. The exact same process occurs when Bittle takes a check: first, the realization that someone is touching him, then his entire body freezing, and then he drops. Thankfully, he doesn’t faint this time. It’s just like every time Jack’s watched him take a shoulder bump or a hug from one of the guys. He just flinches the tiniest bit, then shakes it off.

 

Jack thinks about this. He doesn’t see it as a challenge, exactly, but rather something that simply needs to be taken care of. Either way, Bittle has now relaxed into his arms, so he now easily carries his loose-limbed form to the living room. He’s light enough that Jack feels a little bit worried about him and a little bit-- protective?

 

He shakes his head to clear it as he gently sets Bittle on the couch. “Wait here,” he says, once he’s settled.

 

“Comfy,” says Bittle, which is probably an agreement.

 

Jack heads to the hall linen closet and grabs a blanket and throw pillow. They’re a little musty, but they’ll work just fine. He returns to the living room and shakes Bittle so he rouses enough to sit up and let Jack place the pillow where his head will be. 

 

“Thank you, Jack,” Bittle says, as he sprawls back out again and Jack drapes the blanket over his body, curled up tight. 

 

“Do you need another blanket?” Jack asks.

 

“This is perfect,” Bittle says. “Not too cold, not too hot.”

 

“That’s great, Bittle. You take a couple sips from that water bottle whenever you wake up, alright? And then you can make pancakes in the morning.”

 

Bittle’s eyes are already closed, but he nods.

 

Because Bittle can’t see it, Jack smiles. “Sleep tight, Bittle. You get all of today to rest, but then we have work to do Sunday.” He’s already got plans for them.

 

“Mm,” Bitty says, face pressed against the couch cushion, eyes already closed. If he’s not already asleep, he’ll be there soon. Jack is a little bit jealous of that.

 

Jack watches him for just another moment, then forces himself to head back upstairs, because he also needs his sleep. His alarm will go off in less than four hours and he will inevitable be grumpy if he doesn’t get rest soon.

 

Jack hasn’t gotten his water or his snack, but he doesn’t really care. He falls into bed and as his head hits the pillow he lets out a small groan. He turns onto his side and stares at the plaster of the wall a few inches away from his face and he thinks about being young and dumb and drunk and high.

 

He used to sleep so heavily. 

 

Now all he can do is think.

**Author's Note:**

> Story title from the song at the beginning notes.
> 
> My first oneshot in a while. As it turns out, I can write something other than long multichapter AUs! Thank god for that.
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, and you can come find me on tumblr where I'm @hockeydyke and @riotdyke.


End file.
